Dancing with Death
by bubblegum-buddy
Summary: Grell asks his lady to dance at the Viscount's ball. The problem is, he can't dance. At all. .:Butler!Grell x Madame Red:.


**Hello! Thanks for stopping by to read this! I just felt like spreading a little more Madame Red x Grell love. Unfortunately, I'm not sure if this is a good example of my ability, but I got the idea of Butler!Grell asking his Madame to dance at the Viscount's ball (because that actually _could_ have happened), and this came from it. Also inspired by the genius that is Emilie Autumn. If you haven't heard of her, get your butt on YouTube and look that up. Because she is amazing. Enough of my rambling, please enjoy the story, and please review if you like :) I like to know what people think of my writing so I can better my skills ^^**

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"_Meet me beneath my balcony, and say,  
'No one but you could ever fill my night, be the sunlight in my every day,'  
Underneath my balcony, I'll say,  
'No one but you could ever fill my night, be the sunlight in my every day.'"  
_- "Juliet," Emilie Autumn

All seemed well at the residence of the Viscount of Druitt. Ciel and Sebastian seemed like their investigation was going well, which made Madame Red hide her face behind the showy fan. She had to disguise her laughter - how foolish they were for looking so hard for culprits that were right in front of them! And if Grell didn't have to be in his clumsy butler disguise, he would have laughed too, or at least looked more like he was enjoying himself.

And that, they could afford to do tonight. Madame Red made herself quite comfortable gossiping with other nobles with her lurid and occasionally lewd stories while they giggled and guffawed, sipping alcoholic drinks Grell wouldn't have even bothered to guess the names of, while Grell stood a few inches behind his mistress, ready to be of service if he was needed.

But eventually, the music became far too intoxicating for the nobles to have the attention span to listen to the Madame's stories (and possibly the alcohol, but who was Grell to judge?), and they coupled up, men and women, and danced clumsily, smiling and laughing. The Madame, however, sat back in a chair and looked out on the dance floor, her eyes somewhat glazed over. Grell quirked his mousey brown eyebrows, surprised. She seemed very…what was the word he was looking for….subdued? That sounded about right. Subdued. But by what?

"M-Madame?" he asked in that high-pitched, meek voice of his.

She blinked, as if waking up from a dream, and looked up at her butler. "What is it, Grell?"

He bit his lip, shying away a little. He had to keep the disguise up by staying in character. "Oh, u-um, I-I was jus-"

"Save it, Grell," she interrupted, a bit testily, which surprised the butler. "No one else is near us, or at least sober enough to listen. You can speak freely."

Grell cleared his throat. "Well, I was just a little concerned," he replied, still in a high-pitched voice, but without the stuttering. "You seem very quiet all of a sudden…is everything all right?"

The Madame shook her head too quickly, and responded too fast, "Everything's fine."

Grell smirked, hinting at what lay beneath the disguise a bit. "That sounds convincing," he replied sarcastically. "Now, tell me the truth," he pressed, placing his hand on the back of his mistress's chair. "What's bothering you, my Lady?"

Madame Red looked down at the floor, avoiding the butler's playful golden eyes. "I just…I don't dance."

"And why not?" Grell persisted, then tried to coax the answer out of her by adding, "You have such a lovely figure, my Lady, you would look dazzling waltzing with a handsome man."

"I just don't!" she responded harshly, looking up at him with a glare. Grell blinked, removing his hand and holding it to his chest as though she might attack. _That_ was unexpected. But maybe…

Grell bit his lip before asking, "…W-would my Lady care to dance…w-with me?" There was no need for him to stutter as no one was nearby – it just happened. Damn, he must have been spending too long in that disguise. He extended a tiny, gloved hand with some apprehension, considering her outburst.

Madame Red blinked and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And what on earth would you be asking me this for?"

Grell scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking away. "Um…Well…I just…I just thought…"

"Thought what…?" She was clearly confused now.

"U-um, that-that maybe my Lady would just like to dance, that's all!" he finished awkwardly. In truth he had absolutely no idea why he asked. At all.

Angelina bit her cherry-painted lip, contemplating the butler's answer, before sighing and taking his hand. "Sure, why not?"

Grell's eyes lit up and he smiled brightly. "Excellent!" he squealed, closing his hand around the Madame's as he helped her rise to her feet. With pride (and having to resist puffing his chest out like an excited baboon), he lead her to the dance floor. "By the way, Madame, did I mention that that dress is lovely on you?" he added, chirping like a little bird.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes playfully. "You're too much."

Grell tried his best to put them in the right position to dance. He took Angelina's hand in his own, placed her other…crap! Shoulder? Waist? He couldn't remember. "Uh…"

She rolled her eyes again. "Oh, _honestly_, Grell," she muttered under her breath, putting everything in its proper place – her hand in his, one arm on his shoulder, while his other went around her waist, just over the small of her back. "You're probably as terrible of a dancer as you are a butler."

"In this form, maybe," he mumbled in his 'true' voice, just low enough for only her to hear, "but in my real form, I'm as skilled with my feet as I am with my chainsaw~"

Madame Red grunted in pain, then spat back, "Then explain to me how it's been three seconds and you've already stepped on my foot twice!"

"…Um…"

"That's what I thought."

Grell smirked, pressing his hand flat against her back, pulling her a tiny bit closer. "I'll be more careful with all my next steps," he promised. "Does that please you, my Lady?" And sure enough, Grell went a _whole_ twenty seconds without stepping on the Madame's foot.

She grunted again. "I suppose it do-Mmph!"

Grell made a daring move, even in his disguise as her butler. Carefully, he cupped his mistress's chin in his hand and brought her face close to his, capturing her lips with his own and kissing her deeply. Angelina squeaked a bit, suddenly feeling all eyes on her. A chill ran down her spine. What were they thinking? Did she just ruin her reputation by dancing with this idiot? What about Ciel ? Was he watching? What if-

She felt that sneaky butler slip the tip of his tongue between her lips, and she closed her own eyes and gave in. The answer to all her previous questions? _Fuck it, I'll worry about that later._ She kissed her butler back, opening her mouth just a bit for his tongue to explore the edges of her mouth. When he persisted to be let in further, she pulled back. They opened their eyes and Grell looked vaguely hurt, but Angelina just blinked flirtatiously and whispered, "Later."

Grell smirked, licking his lips in anticipation. "Yes, my Lady," he purred.


End file.
